The new norm
by coldclockworks
Summary: Steve realizes that the life he came back to isn't necessarily the same as the one he left behind.
1. Chapter 1

_Your heart beats its own rhythm, makes its own song_ _  
_ _Your mind races around wildly, making its own bomb._

That's the problem. Songs are predictable- you hear it once or twice and you know the words, just like your heart beat- thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.  
A bomb though, you never know when its going to go off. Things are unpredictable. Just like the constant turmoil inside my head. You never know when shits about to go down.

I don't know, I used to be what you'd call normal. Maybe I had a smart mouth, but I could control it. It wasn't like my mouth would run off and my mind would be trying to reel it back in. I would do stupid things because I wanted to, not cause I couldn't stop myself. I could keep track of the time, the day, and stay there, not dazing out of it like some hippy who smoked too much pot.  
But now my mind is a damn bomb and I can't control shit. Even if I keep trying and trying my mind wanders off and I go somewhere else, and there's no telling what will bring me back. Sometimes a word. Sometimes time. Sometimes a good slap will do it. But sometimes... Sometimes I feel like it takes a literal bomb.  
Ponyboy put it pretty well the other day when he asked me, "Where do you keep going?"  
I think he was asking about why I wouldn't come over for weeks at a time, then show up at his house days in a row.  
But he hit it on the head.  
My mind just kept running off, and I couldn't keep up. The bomb just kept on ticking.  
I was going fucking insane.  
I never even knew it was possible to live inside your body but outside your mind.  
Its like living inside a bomb, just waiting for it to detonate. You know it's coming. You know it's going to happen, because that's what bombs do- they explode.

Tick tick tock.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't know if my first warning was the urge to choke the bitch with the green handbag in the bus station, or if that was just a reflex. You can't just slam into someone's shoulder and not even look at them. But the station was busy as fuck and I wanted out so I let it go, releasing my anger in puffs of smoke as soon as I stepped outside. I watched as the smoke curled and dissipated in the breeze and wished it would take the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of my stomach with it.

Why was I feeling dread? I was home. I was safe. I was fine. That was ridiculous.

Ridiculous.  
But it wouldn't leave.  
Or maybe my first warning was when I spotted Evie and wanted to turn around and leave, climb a bus to God knows where and never see her again. Never see anyone again. Just turn and go and leave everything behind. It wouldn't have been difficult, either- I had convinced myself, once, that I'd never see any of my old life ever again, so it wouldn't have been that hard to make it a reality. Go start fresh.  
But in the 20 seconds it took me to ponder that she spotted me, rushing over and jumping on me like some deranged cat. The smell of her shampoo- how had I never noticed it before?- and the warmth of her soft hands on my skin made me forget about leaving pretty fast.  
"I just hope you like it. Janine and I were..."  
I let her prattle on as she led me across the parking lot. Something about the apartment her and her friend had rented and how the living area was painted red.  
"I'm sure its just fine," I told her as she stopped next to her dads old buick and tossed me the keys.  
 _I don't want to drive._  
I unlocked her door, hoping she wouldn't notice my hands shaking, before tossing my meagerly packed dufflebag in the trunk and climbing into the drivers seat.  
 _Give her the keys._

Sure, it wasn't my car, but it was fine. It was fine. I was being stupid.

 _Stupid._ _Think about the red living room. Why would anyone paint a living room red... It's like blood. Like having been shot in your living room and the blood splattered everywhere and you're bleeding out to paint your room and can't staunch the flow because the blood-_

Stop.  
But damn, I didn't want to drive.  
Maybe that was my first warning, or maybe it was the third. I loved driving. I hadn't driven in a year- those massive jungle jeep things didn't count, and I wasn't even supposed to have been driving them. I missed driving. I wanted to drive.  
Except that I didn't.  
I glanced at Evie as the engine rumbled to life. She hadn't noticed anything, instead she was fixing her lipstick in the passenger mirror while somehow still talking. She was on about something to do with Janines new haircut.  
Her lipstick was awful red. I couldn't look away as she smacked her lips together. They looked like she'd just smeared blood all over them. As if she'd taken a bullet to the belly and was choking on the blood, some of it spewing up her throat, choking her as she-  
"You alright?"  
Why was everything red? I guess I'd been staring, so I nodded and tore my eyes away, instead focusing on the road ahead as I put the car in gear.  
"Yup. You're just real pretty."  
And need a new colour lipstick.  
"So," she said, finally readjusting the mirror and giving her lips one final smack. "What happened to your face? You look like you been boxing."  
"More or less."  
"No more or less, you ain't said five words to me. Tell me what happened."  
Of course she'd want to know what had happened, she was my girl and I had an awful black eye. She didn't like anything like that, I was supposed to look as perfect as she did- that was a bit of a joke. I used to pick up the dirtiest jobs at the DX- under oiling, fixing exhausts- if I was going to see her later, just to piss her off.  
"Just some rough housin', nothing really. Guy named James Moore had way too much energy. Guess I did too. Guess thats what happens when you go from walkin' 20 miles a day to walkin' none. Got a little crazy I guess."  
She nodded.  
"I hope you got him better than he got you."  
If there was one thing she hated more than me being a mess it was losing- she used to like to drag race with me cause we'd always win.  
"Yup."  
I was just glad she believed me. She didn't need to know the truth. She didn't need to know about nearly dying in the jungle, about the smell of blood so thick it was nearly suffocating, about the sick, savage pleasure I'd felt when I'd won. Every time. Cause thats what had happened. I was home. I'd won. I always won.  
I raised my left hand off the wheel to show her the seven stitches that ran clear across the palm. I'd ditched the bandage on the train, thinking it'd make it less obvious- apparently it had worked cause she hadn't noticed. But she would, eventually, then she would accuse me of trying to hide it from her, then we would fight.  
And I didn't want any more fighting, not with her at least, so it was easier just to show her.  
"You men are so rough!" she huffed, turning in her seat to look at me as we turned onto the highway. "You know not everyone resorts to their fists. Some people are normal. Some people don't use their fists. Some people aren't rough."  
"Sure, pretend you don't like it when I'm rough."  
If I thought her lipstick had been red, it was nothing compared to the colour her face went. I smirked. She was no prude, but that shut her up. I didn't need any lectures from her.  
In fact, it shut her up so well she didn't speak the rest of the way to her apartment, instead she took to directing me by pointing her fingers. I liked the silence just fine.

Well, she'd been right, her livingroom had been painted red- it reminded me a bit of a whore house. But its not like I'd cared, we'd spent about twenty seconds there before she'd dragged me off to her bedroom. I'd always liked that about her- she always knew what she wanted, and she made no secret of it. Sometimes it wasn't so great, like when she'd drag me out of a movie cause she didn't like it and wanted to go home, or when she would ask me questions, knowing what answer she wanted... But I'd take it any day over those chicks that ain't got a mind of their own.  
I looked at her face, looking so peaceful as she slept. The only light came in through the crack in the curtains, and illuminated her face beautifully. I'd missed her, and as I felt her warm breath against my neck, I could, for the first time in a long time, really appreciate her- we fought and yelled and went on breaks as much as any couple I'd ever met, yet she had waited faithfully for me.  
I slipped out from her arms and lit a cigarette. I couldn't sleep. It might have been 2 in the morning in Tulsa, but I still felt like it was the middle of the afternoon.  
At least, I assumed she'd been faithful. She'd been awful eager to get to the bedroom, and she'd written all the time...  
Her letters had always been nice. She hadn't been shy about sending pictures with a bit of skin, although never as much as I would have liked. She'd kill me if she knew that I showed them off. She'd even written in her letters that I wasn't to show a soul. She must have known I wouldn't listen.  
Jimmy Duncan had said I was real lucky, but that broads like her weren't to be trusted.  
Jimmy Duncan had said that if she'd send those pictures in the mail, there was no telling what else she was doing.  
"Besides, who took those photos?"  
Jimmy Duncan, Jimmy Duncan, Jimmy Duncan... He'd had a nervous breakdown a week or two after that. He was nuts. How would he know?  
But how would I know?  
She'd had a bit of a rep before I met her- Dally used to like to brag he had bedded her before I did- but that had been years ago. Still, Jimmys girl had ran out on him while he was in Vietnam and he'd said she'd been innocent when he'd met her. A year is a long time, and they do say old habits die hard.

Screw it. I was being paranoid.  
I snubbed the cigarette out on the windowsill and flicked the butt outside. I couldn't shake the feeling, but it wasn't like I could just ask her. And I had no real reason to suspect her.  
Maybe I was crazy too.  
"Steve?"  
She made me just about jump out of my skin. I didn't mind the quiet. I just didn't like it being disrupted, like a random sniper shot in the night. One sound and someone is dead and you don't even know what direction the shot came from. Then you're scared shitless to go check of the poor bastard in case your number is the next to be called.  
"Steve?"  
"Mm?"  
"I was thinkin'" she said, sitting up. She clutched the sheets to her chest, as if I hadn't seen what was under them. "You don't have to go back to your dads. Janines movin' out. You could stay here, with me..."  
"Mm," I said again. I wasn't really in the mood for talking, or thinking. How could she wake up and just start yapping away?  
I guess she took that to be affirmative because she cuddled up to me again as soon as I climbed back into bed.  
I had all night to think on her offer. Its not like I'd be getting any sleep any time soon anyways.


	3. Chapter 3

don't know what I had been expecting, but it hadn't been that. It hadn't been complete exhaustion, yet complete inability to sleep. I'd never had trouble sleeping in my life, but every time I closed my eyes my mind began to race- thoughts of Evie, of my parents, of things that had happened years ago, of things that didn't even make sense,- and then, when my mind would turn to Vietnam my eyes would fly open and I'd be out of bed. I couldn't help it. It was like a reflex.  
I had thought I had been tired overseas, but I'd always been able to sleep. It had been physical exhaustion, mental exhaustion at times, but I had always been able to sleep. Propped up on a tree, using a coat as a pillow, or in the back of a truck, it didn't matter- I had always been able to sleep.  
But now I couldn't and it was fucking killing me.  
Figuratively, of course. I was more likely to die sleeping a month ago than I was to ever die of lack of sleep. It'd be too easy, to just close my eyes, go to sleep, and never wake up. I couldn't figure it out. Everything was fine, safe, peaceful- ideal conditions, really. Not like worrying about dying every second- how could I sleep then, but not now?  
"How you feeling?"  
She guided me to a kitchen chair when I emerged from the bedroom and started rubbing my shoulders. For the first time in a long time I didn't actually have any aches, but I wasn't about to tell her to stop. She might not have been much of a cook but I'll be damned if I wouldn't pay money for her soft little hands to give me a massage.  
"Just need some coffee."  
 _Need a hit._  
Yup, then I could sleep. But I didn't have any and Evie would flip if she found out. She didn't care about much but she'd never been quiet about voicing her opinions of the junkies that hung out on the street corners. I could almost hear her shrill voice- I didn't like that voice. I tried to avoid that voice. And that's why she'd never know about the drugs. She didn't need to know. It was over.  
I shook my head, trying to shake the thought from my mind. I was just readjusting. I'd be fine. It wouldn't take too long. I'd be miserable for maybe a week, then I'd be fine. I was already a few days in. I didn't need it.  
 _But it would be nice.  
_ Dammit.  
She paused for a moment before going and busying herself with the coffee maker, keeping her back to me. She was too quiet- always a sure sign of trouble. And trouble with Evie wasn't just your usual trouble- she'd cut you down and not let you back up until you thought you'd never breathe again. She'd made my life a living Hell for a week straight once, when apparently I'd been supposed to take her to some event or something and had forgotten. I still don't know what I was supposed to take her to, but she made sure I'd never forget that I'd forgotten. Life was just easier when I kept her happy- knowing how to keep her happy was the hard part.  
"You get any sleep?"  
I just shrugged, because I didn't want to lie to her but didn't want to admit that I hadn't. I'd lost track of how long it had been- at least three days- since I'd had a decent sleep. The odd nap wasn't cutting it. My chest felt all tight and my brain felt anxious and I was sure that was why.  
She headed for the bedroom, still taking care not to look at my face, and I heard the door close quietly behind her. I would rather she had slammed it- the quiet treatment wasn't like her at all. I didn't know what her issue was, but it couldn't be all that serious- it had only been a few days, I couldn't have fucked up too badly. Maybe she was going through some womanly hormonal issues or something.  
I could feel my eyes getting heavy and my mind kept slipping to places I didn't want it to go, so I took to counting the drips from the coffee maker to keep me awake.  
 _One, two..._  
I'd be fine after some coffee...  
 _Five six..._

Just a hit. One, quick hit to relax. I felt as if my body were a wire pulled tight, ready to let go at any second, and I just couldn't stop my mind from racing. Just one hit, to help relax, just a bit.

Shit, stop. Stop.

 _Sixteen, seventeen..._

Coffee was the elixir of the Gods. It made everything better...  
My eyes felt heavier and heavier as I watched it drip.  
 _Twenty... Drip drip... Thirty..._  
The drips dropped off the edge, onto the ground where the red mixed into the dirt, creating a puddle of mud, but not the kind you'd want to make mud pies of as a kid.  
 _Drip drip..._  
I couldn't look away as it dripped off the edge of the stretcher. The smell was so strong I could taste it- the horrible, almost metallic taste. I'd recognize it anywhere.  
 _Thirty five, forty two..._  
Poor John Isaacs hadn't seen it coming. I watched as his life dripped away. I didn't help him. I couldn't help him. No one could. He had been dead before he had hit the ground. So I sat next to him, wondering if his daughter would remember him, while we waited for the helicopter to come take his dead body away.  
I'd only been there a few weeks and when he'd been shot I'd almost literally been scared shitless. John had been on his second tour, then- _blam_ \- he had been gone. If he couldn't get out alive, what chance did I have? He'd known what he was doing. He'd survived before. He had everything going for him- way more than me, some stupid teenager that had never so much as held a gun before enlisting. He'd started hunting when he was twelve. He knew shit I couldn't even dream of.  
No chance. None. Nadda.  
I'd resigned myself to that pretty fast. I was as good as dead but my legs were too stupid to stop walking.  
He'd told me to follow him and I'd be alright. He'd been a few steps ahead when a bullet had went through his heart.  
A bit of an ironic death- if anyone had had a big heart out there, it had been him. Maybe if he hadn't it would have hit somewhere else, and he'd have been fine.  
 _You fucking moron._  
A big heart didn't actually affect your physical makeup. Something was wrong with my brain, to think stupid shit like that.  
It could have been me. Five seconds more and it would have been me, laying dead on the ground.  
 _Drip_...  
Our medic, Sammy Linus, came over, folded Johns arm back onto his chest, looked me in the eye, and said,  
"Buck up, dipshit."  
I felt so awful I'd looked down at the ground- and saw his blood had reached my boots. My feet were in his blood, and I could feel my stomach begin to churn.  
 _Bang bang bang._  
"Steve?"  
I opened my eyes and thought I was looking at a ghost.  
"Are you alright?"  
It took me a few seconds to realize I was staring at my own reflection. In the mirror. In the bathroom. In Evies apartment...  
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.  
 _You're alright..._  
My stomach churned and I wished it would stop. Everything was fine. Nothing to worry about.  
Nothing _. I was fine._  
 _You're not alright._  
"Steve?"  
She was sounding a bit frantic.  
"I'm fine," I answered, glad my voice sounded more stable than I felt.  
 _You're fine, dipshit._  
"You want your coffee now?" she asked when I opened the door.  
"Nope," I told her. I didn't think I'd drink coffee ever again.

 _You're not fine._

"Dammit. Oh mother of-!"  
I threw the useless clamp to the ground in frustration. If I had been in my right mind, it would have been easy. If my hands hadn't been shaking, the car would have already been fired up and good to go- but I wasn't all with it and I'd cut the line like an idiot.  
I took a deep breath. Shit happens.  
I felt like a pretty big moron, but it wasn't so bad.  
Evie had dropped me off at my dads place without asking for an explanation. She'd probably thought I wanted a nice family reunion. She'd have been wrong, but I hadn't had to tell her that.  
That was one thing going my way.  
Then, my dad hadn't even been home. I wasn't in the mood for some God awful fake tearful reunion, and hadn't had to have one.  
Two things my way. I'd been able to just go and pick up my key.  
Granted, the car hadn't just fired up like I'd hoped. It had just been a dead battery.  
I hoped.  
But I'd cut the clamp off the damn charger when I'd tried to free it up where it had rusted shut.  
Dammit.  
Still, not such a bad day, if I could ignore whatever psycho shit had happened earlier. I thought I must have fallen asleep and dreamed a memory. I'd had crazy dreams before, and my mind had been screwy because it had been so tired.  
 _Or you're just fucking nuts._  
Yeah, that was possible, but I'd been working on the car all afternoon and felt pretty good. Still felt tired, but a little less so, and not crazy.

 _Not crazy._  
Maybe it was because I was alone in silence, but I'd found peace inside my head. Or maybe it was because I was busy. Either way, I could live with it.  
I'd busied myself inspecting the rest of the car- I'd considered getting a new charger but didn't fancy the walk-, when a voice startled me so bad I jumped and hit my head off the hood.  
I cursed every word I could think of and grabbed the wrench that had been sitting on the engine, ready to crack whoever it was over the head with it. Old habits, I guess, because I didn't think anyone in Tulsa was after my skin, and most of the gang shit had died down.  
"The Hell do you want?"  
I guess thats not really a way to greet anyone, but my heart was racing and I didn't appreciate being snuck up on.  
"Just thought I'd say hello."  
"Well Jesus, Ponyboy, don't sneak up on me like that," I said, putting the wrench down and reaching up to feel my head. It was tender but not bleeding. "Good way to get yourself killed."  
"I said your name three times and tapped on your trunk before you wigged out," he answered. "Sorry if thats sneaking up."

"When did you turn into a sassy little girl?" I asked him, but couldn't hold the facade and quickly gave him a one armed embrace. I don't know if it was that he had grown a good half foot since I had last seen him and looked more than ever like Soda, or if it was that he was the first person I had spoken to other than Evie in days, but I felt a wave of affection rush over me.

"When did you turn into a bald washed up wrestler?"

"Ah shut up," I said, and gave his arm a punch for good measure. He rubbed the spot and I wasn't sorry. I guess affection only lasts a few seconds, sometimes.

But he had a point. I was wishing my hair would grow back in a lot faster than it was- Evie said she only wished her hair would grow as fast- but I couldn't see my scalp anymore so I was thankful. The bruising around my eye was still there, but had faded to a dull green. I probably did look like some drug addict who had lost a fight or something.

 _That's true._

No it wasn't. I hadn't used in at least a couple of weeks, and as for the fight- well, I'd won. Kind of.

 _Stop._

I was having a good afternoon and didn't need to ruin it by leading my mind off down some deranged path.

"You should stop by. Darry'd like to see you, I bet." He stopped and fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulled out two, and offered me one. "Soda too," he added as an afterthought.

I took the cigarette and let him light it, and stared at him for a minute. He'd changed, and not just physically. He seemed more mature or more bothered or more thoughtful or something but I didn't spend too much time thinking about it because it ain't my job to try to figure anything out.

I shrugged in response. I didn't want to get roped into plans that I couldn't keep- all I really wanted to do was to get the car going, then go to sleep.

"How they doin'?" I asked, picking up the clamp off the ground and examining it. I'd left a good inch of wire attached to it.

He didn't answer, so I peeled the insultation off the wire for a minute before adding, "Your brothers?"

"They're fine," he said, and I looked up. He had half a frown on his face.

"Then why you look like you're tryin' to solve all the worlds problems?"

It was his turn to shrug, and he stood there in silence for a moment. He'd never been chatty on the best of days- Hell, I'd been surprised he'd came to say hello to me at all. The only person less chatty than him I had ever met was Johnny. I didn't feel like trying to weasel it out of him, so I let it go and put my mind back to getting the charger going.

"Darry's got a girlfriend."

I whooped, both because I'd managed to reconnect the clamp to the charger, and for Darrys success. Guy needed a girlfriend. He'd needed one for a long time.

"What about you?" I asked.

"Nothin' serious."

I grinned at him but didn't push it because I didn't really give all that much of a fuck about him. If he was getting some, good, maybe he'd be less annoying, if not- well, it's not like we were best friends. I didn't have to deal with him much.

"When you get back?" he asked as I hooked the charger to the battery.

"Thursday," I said, waiting for the hum to start.

"You been back a week and ain't stopped over?"

A week? I stared at him for a minute because I thought he must be having some kind of weird joke, but he looked dead serious. A week? I thought four days. Where had the time gone? Had I been sitting around for a week? No wonder my mind was going squirrely.

"I been busy," I lied.

He didn't need the truth. He didn't need to know that guilt was eating me up and I didn't want to see Soda at all and that I thought I might be going insane. He didn't need to know I didn't even want to go outside, or that, well, he just didn't need to know.

"Stop by tonight then," he said again, so this time I nodded because if I didn't he'd bring it up again and again until I agreed.

"Alright alright," I said, and jiggled the cables and just about did a dance when they started to hum. In an hour I'd be able to see if that was the only thing wrong. I prayed it was. It ain't that I didn't enjoy fixing cars- I just didn't want things to need to be fixed on _my_ car. I wanted to drive it. If I had to take one more drive in Evies shitty old car I might just start hitchhiking.

"How are you?" he asked, and it seemed to be almost out of courtesy and he'd forgotten or something. I couldn't blame him- I hadn't actually asked how he was either.

"Can't complain," I said, rubbing my head again. It was starting to throb. "Evie's acting like a cat in heat and I got all the time in the world to entertain her."

He didn't even blush and I could have cursed him for it. It had been one of life's simple pleasures- making Ponyboy blush had almost been a game. Maybe he was getting lucky after all.

"That's... good..." He said awkwardly.

I didn't know what the Hell to say to him but he wouldn't leave, just stood there smoking another cigarette and watching me, so I went back to work, checking all the connections, putting in some fuel conditioner, doing whatever I could think of so that we wouldn't just be standing there in silence. I got the feeling there was something he wanted to say, or ask, or do, or some reason he wasn't leaving but if he wasn't going to spit it out I wasn't about to try to drag it out of him. He might have grown but he was still as annoying as ever.

"So you'll come?" he asked after what felt like far too long. He was getting on my last nerve.

"Listen, kid, you want a punch in the dick or something? I said I'll be there."

And just like that, my fate was sealed.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes, you gotta do shit you don't want to do. You gotta ignore your gut and your heart and everything inside you telling you not to do it, find your balls, and do it anyways.

Kind of like running into gunfire. You know its stupid and wrong, but you know you've gotta do it. Somehow, you do it, and you get lucky and come out alright while someone drops dead right beside you.

It's kind of fucked up that I'd rather do that again than go see the Curtises. Maybe if the choice were put in front of my face I wouldn't, but in my mind I would. I didn't want to go. Why had I let that little shit convince me to?

I'd tried to go to sleep and not wake up- at least, not in time to go over. No such luck. I never had any luck, at least not now. So I'd decided to walk, hoping that something would happen in the half hour it took to get there- maybe I'd get hit by a car, or Evie would drive by and need help, or maybe the Curtises would all be in bed by the time I got there and I'd have to just turn around and leave. But I knew none of that would happen, and with each step my feet felt heavier and heavier.

 _Go home._

It had been too long since I'd seen them, or even talked to them. Soda had written me a letter after he'd gotten home, and I hadn't responded. It felt like writing back would be accepting what had happened and somehow make it real- but it was real, and I was going to have to face it one way or the other. Might as well get it over with.

So I stood infront of their door, wondering whether to knock or just go in- I never knocked, but things had changed- when Darry came around from the side of the house.

"You gonna stand there all night or get your ass inside?"

Well, that was friendly enough. Friendlier than I'd expected, at least.

Then he had me in a headlock and was messing with my hair, making some sort of comment about how I looked like I should be in prison, and I couldn't help but relax a bit- it felt just like it always had. But I could tell something was wrong- maybe it was that Darry just looked tense, or maybe it was the raised voices inside, or maybe a combination- but something wasn't right. But Darry was always tense and the house was always loud, so maybe I was just crazy.

 _You are crazy._

"Steve!"

Soda was sitting on the sofa, one leg draped across the back, the other across the seat. He looked about the same as always, except a bit more ragged. A shave and a hair cut would do him some good.

A woman I didn't recognize was sitting in the armchair, glaring daggers at him. I got the feeling her and Soda had stopped talking as soon as we had entered. She had red hair. I thought the voices must have been her and Soda must have been arguing.

"Charlene and I were just discussin' how stupid her job is. She's some kind of head doctor and thinks she can read peoples minds," Soda told me as he slowly sat up properly to make room for me.

"I'm not a doctor and I can't read peoples minds!" she said, sounding extremely frustrated. "If you'd just shut up and listen for two minutes I-"

"Don't you tell me to shut up."

"I ain't-"

"You know your problem? You think you're always right. Well fuck you, Princess Charlene, cause you don't know shit about anything."

With that, he stood up and started slowly down the hall, motioning with one hand that I should follow.

I didn't know what the Hell had just happened, but the way Darry was looking I thought it best to clear out, so I followed him to his old room.

"That's Darry's girlfriend," he said, shutting the door behind us. "She's a piece of work. Always trying to read people or something, get inside their heads. Cause she went to school."

I sat on the edge of his bed and looked around, not sure what to say. In honesty, from what I saw, he'd been a complete dick, but I didn't want to tell him that. It had been a long time since I'd been in the room- since his parents had died and he'd had to move in to Ponyboys room. We'd spent a lot of hours in there, insulting teachers, playing with GI Joes and saying all kinds of awful things about girls that would have had Mrs. Curtis washing our mouths out with soap. There was meager furnishings, just a bed, desk, and dresser, and a few of Sodas things were out, but the room still felt abandoned. There was no real signs anyone lived there.

He was pacing, slowly, and I ripped my eyes away from him and started looking anywhere else. I didn't want to watch as he slowly limped along, favouring his left leg, looking like he should be using a crutch or a cane or something.

"So you made it," he said, finally stopping to look at me and leaning against the dresser.

"I almost overslept."

"No. I mean... You made it, man."

I nodded, understanding what he meant. I hadn't thought I would make it, so how could he?

"So did you."

"Sure," he said, absent mindedly rubbing his leg before coming to sit next to me. "Take a look at this."

I think I probably gasped out loud when he pulled up his pant leg to show me a horribly scarred, pink looking leg. A few of the scars were straight, as though done medically, but most criss crossed and looped randomly, all the way up to his knee, covering most of his skin.

"Jesus Soda!" No wonder he limped.

"Pretty nasty, right? That's what it looks like if your leg gets crushed by a 5 ton truck, in case you were wondering."

"Pretty bad ass," I said, thinking that I probably shouldn't agree, even though the sight of it did make me queasy and I was glad when he covered it back up. "Chicks dig stuff like that."

He laughed, but it sounded empty.

Something was wrong with him.

 _Somethings wrong with you._

Maybe there was something wrong with both of us.

"Hurts like a bitch sometimes," he said, and I didn't know what to say so I stayed silent. He didn't seem to notice, as he stood back up and went to his dresser and started rooting through the top drawer.

"I have something for you," he said, turning around and tossing something to me.

I opened my hand and saw a small metal ornament. An eagle, open winged, with a red chest, claws clutching some sort of trophy. It took me a minute to recognize it.  
I sat on the bed next to him, staring at the hood ornament. I could feel his eyes on me.  
"I guess we won, huh?" I asked.  
"Yeah man, we won."  
If we had won, why did I feel at such a loss?

It has been such an easy plan- teach Neil Davis a lesson. After a night of drinking, we- Soda, Two-Bit, and myself- had decided the best way to do that was to sink his car into his backyard pool. He'd never look at Evie again, and more importantly, Evie would never look at him again. Maybe she had, or maybe she hadn't, but something had gone on that had made me decide he had to be punished.  
It had all been going so well. We had found out Neils entire family was out of town that weekend, so Saturday night we'd put the plan into action. I had hot wired the car while Soda had popped off the eagle. Two-Bit had been pulling open the fence around the pool. Everything was perfect, all we had to do was drive the car into the pool. It seemed great, until an undercover had pulled up beside us.  
We'd tried to play it cool, but when you don't have the keys to a car that isn't yours, and no explanation as to why you're in it, there's no amount of talking that can get you out of that shit. Even Sodas smile and charm hadn't worked. Only good thing was that Two-Bit had had a chance to hightail it while the cops had been busy with us.  
"Oh boys, whats a judge going to do with you two, hmm?"  
I remembered that comment often, partly because he'd sounded so lazy and uncaring about us, and partly because he'd called us boys. Maybe we had been then, but that was the last time we could ever be called that. That one prank, one moment, would change us from boys to men. Carefree to stress filled. Innocent to killers. I felt sick about it.  
The choice had seemed to easy. We could go to jail, or go to the military to "straighten us out," as the judge put it. Go look at brick walls for a year or go on an adventure in the jungle for a year. Maybe the choice had seemed easy, but I was pretty sure we had made the wrong one.

"I'm real sorry," I said, shaking my head. I tried to hand the eagle back to him, but he pushed my hand away.  
"Nothin' to be sorry for," he said, shaking his head. "If I hadn't gone then, I probably would have gone anyways, and maybe if I'd gone later I would have died so just shut up."

It was like a switch had flipped. Soda had gone from being someone I could hardly recognize into the old Soda, who knew just what to say, who I thought might know me better than I knew myself.  
"No," I said. "This wouldn't have happened," I said, gesturing at both of us. "You're hurt because I'm a moron and can't control myself."  
He was quiet for a minute.  
"I don't know why anything's happened but its all for a reason. I'll tell you what. I've met this real cute masseuse who I see twice a week because of this." He patted his leg. "She hardly knows I exist but what if one day her and I have a hundred babies and one of them cures old age? That'll be the whole reason."  
"That ain't the point," I said. I wanted to laugh, but even more, I wanted him to yell at me. To scream at me. To hate me. This was my fault and he shouldn't just accept it for what it is.  
"The point is what you make it, man."  
I wasn't going to get anywhere with him, so I decided to switch gears.  
"You see Chuck Harris lately?"  
We'd gone to school with Chuck, and he'd always had a bit of a rep as a user and a pusher. We'd never been good buddies but had played cards the odd time, but I had no interest in that. I hadn't been able to shake the thought that I'd be so much better than off if I could get just one hit.  
Just one.  
 _There is no such thing._  
Just one. To relax. To sleep. To calm my mind. To start fresh. My mind had been rushing since I got home. To just have a clear, calm mind would be so nice... The thought kept creeping into my mind. I couldn't keep it out.  
"Not for a while. Why you askin'?"

I shook my head, wondering how much I could tell him. Until an hour ago, I thought he had hated me. I didn't want to give him any more reason.  
"I dunno, man, I'm just all kinds of fucked up."  
He didn't respond right away, just stared at the floor for so long I looked too, just to see if there was anything that deserved such attention.  
"You know, when this happened," he said slowly, gesturing towards his one leg, "and I came home, they gave me the option of chopping it off. Cut it off and be done with it. I wanted to. But Ponyboy and Darry were sure, it would get better, it would get better, I couldnt do it.. So I didn't. But you know what? If it had been my decision back then, I would have said Hell yes. And this thing still don't work right and it aches something awful sometimes, so if they asked me tomorrow I'd still say yes. Maybe I'm all kinds of fucked up too, for thinkin' that, but there ain't nothin' wrong with takin' care of yourself first, everyone else be damned."

I nodded, half ways understanding what he was saying, half ways thinking he was insane.

He turned around and started going through his drawer again.

"C'mere," he said, and I didn't really want to know what other things he had in there, but went over anyways.  
"Holy shit." I didn't know what to say.  
"Welcome to the drug store."  
The drawer was filled with all kinds of drugs, some prescription and some obviously not, and a bunch of knick knacks. It looked like someone had taken a pile of garbage, mixed it with some prescription bottles, and dumped it in there.  
"What are you doin' with all this stuff?"

There wasn't enough of any one thing for him to dealing, and I didn't think he'd do that anyways, but I could not think of why he would have so much. Bottles and bottles of prescriptions, and little folded slips of paper and baggies all throughout, some of which looked almost empty, some with a fair bit inside.  
"These are all prescription, paid for by our dear government..." he said, running his hands over some of the bottles. "And these..." he picked up a few of the others before dropping them back in the drawer, "Are for when the prescriptions don't work."  
I felt sick at his words, but not sick enough. Something had gone wrong, very wrong, somewhere along the line.  
"Don't you worry someone's gonna find that? Darry'd kill you."  
"Darry don't come in here. Neither does Ponyboy."

I didn't like the picture I was getting of what was going on with him. I remembered how Ponyboy hadn't been too chatty about Soda earlier.  
"Don't matter anyways. I don't use them much anyhow, been feeling a lot better, pills mostly cut it. I think they know, anyways," he said. "I don't keep no secrets anymore. I'm tired of trying to keep everyone happy."  
I went and sat back on his bed again, the feeling dread settling back in. Everything felt wrong.  
 _Because you're all wrong._  
But for once, I didn't feel all wrong. At least, I felt I wasn't the only one who was fucked up, and I felt guilty as heck that the thought made me feel a bit better.

"If you want somethin' you can have it. Any of it. I don't need it."  
 _You don't need it either._  
He didn't need it but I did.  
Something was very wrong.

Note: I hope there isnt too many errors in this! I have written and rewritten this so many times I think my eyes have gone error-blind to it...


	5. Chapter 5

The quiet was so peaceful it was unnerving. There was no peace here.  
We took step after step, deeper into the jungle, eyes peeled. The plants wrapped around our ankles and feet, but no one uttered a word of complaint. Any sound would break the spell and curse us to whatever nightmares the jungle held. Even the birds withheld their songs, and the insects had stopped buzzing.  
We approached a clearing, a perfect patch of green, and slowly crossed through. My heart was racing. Something was going to happen. It was the perfect spot for some kind of trap or ambush.  
But nothing happened. We all crossed through, untouched, but that didn't slow my heart. I thought it might beat out of my chest, or I'd just drop dead from the anxiety that was clawing at my chest.  
The birds started cheeping again, first one ahead of us, then another behind us. In mere seconds the trees were full of the deafening sound of birds calling to one another all around us.  
I didn't realize they weren't birds until the gunfire erupted.

I woke in complete confusion feeling like I had a hangover from Hell, even though I'd only had one beer. It took me a few minutes to realize I was asleep in Sodas bed, and even longer to place the voices I was hearing. Just the sounds of a normal morning. A normal morning.  
I buried my head in the pillow, trying to ease the throbbing in my head, and wondered what time it was. The sun was high in the sky, and I felt like I'd been sleeping for a long time.  
I didn't want to face anyone, but I knew there was no getting around it so I took a snort of powdered courage and pocketed the extra before standing up. No point putting it off.

I was feeling a lot better by the time I'd reached the kitchen. Maybe the drugs had kicked in, or maybe I'd just had a case of the 'bad mornings' as my mom used to call it. Either way, when Ponyboy offered me eggs, I wasn't in the mood- the thought of eating made me nauseous.

"I can't get used to your hair like that," he said, turning back to the stove as I took a seat at the table. It was just him and I, even though I knew I'd heard other people.

"You know, Ponyboy, the last person to have a hair cut this bad was you," I said, and he flung a wooden spoon over his shoulder at me with surprisingly good aim. I ducked and it missed. "I take that back," I added. "Your haircut was way worse. Looked like someone butchered Marilyn Monroe."

"You look like you fell asleep with your head near a wood chipper."

"That all you got?" I asked. "A wood chipper? I wouldn't still have my head."

I threw the spoon back and hit him in the back of the head with it just before the door opened and Soda and Two-Bit came in with the smell of cigarettes coming with them, Two-Bits loud voice immediately filling the space.

"I should have known you were back," Two-Bit said with a grin and a smack on my back before sitting down next to me. "I saw Miss Evelyn Vascall the other day and thought she was lookin' mighty fine. A little extra pep in her step. Mellow in her yellow." He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Honey in her money? Jizz in her bizz? You get what I'm sayin'?"  
"I think a two year old would get what you're sayin'," Darry said, walking into the room, Charlotte following right behind like some prim and proper puppy dog, looking up to its master. I felt the dislike for her filter through the room- apparently it wasn't a feeling held by only Soda.  
"I dunno, Steve here might just be a bit slow on the uptake," Two-Bit added, and I could tell by his tone he was trying to get a reaction. "I hear tell they use the dumb ones as grunts- they find better-"  
If he wanted a fight, he'd found one.  
I grabbed him around the back of the neck and had him on the floor in a second, while Charlotte jumped back behind Darry with a gasp. As if we would hit her or were wild animals or something. Maybe to her we were.  
"Jesus you're getting fat, Two-Bit!" I told him as he wrestled me down. Maybe I wasn't fit or maybe he was fat, but I couldn't get free of his grasp.  
"I ain't fat," he gasped, prying my arm off his neck and flinging me onto the ground. "Its that you're so damned skinny. What they feed you over there, bird seed?"  
I tried to roll out from under him, but he sat down on my chest.  
"Say it."  
I wasn't going to say it. I pulled my arm out and went to give him a hit, but he pinned my arms under his knees.  
"Say it."  
I don't know what happened- one second he had me pinned so tight I could barely move, the next he was kneeling on the ground in front of me spitting blood into his cupped hand.  
"Don't you ever..." I started, as I became aware of the throbbing in my head. Charlotte was looking at me like I was nuts. Maybe I was.  
"Sorry Charlene, they're both crazy." She made a tisking sound in response and backed against the wall. Like I was going to go charging across the room and attack her or something.

 _Charlene_ I thought, making a note of it. Not Charlotte. Not that I cared.

Darry went and heaved Two-Bit up, while Soda offered me his hand. I ignored him and got myself up. I didn't need help.  
"You alright?"  
"You just..." I said to Two-Bit, my voice shaking. My hands were shaking. My entire body was shaking. I needed to leave, before I did something more stupid than head slamming his face- and I wasn't quite sure what kind of stupid I was capable of.  
I could hear my pulse racing in my ears and I was so angry I couldn't form words. He knew nothing. Nothing.  
I backed away from their accusing stares towards the freedom the door offered.  
"You just don't fucking speak. You can't..." I spat out before making my way outside. I let it slam behind me with a bang, satisfied that the noise had ended the conversation in a way I could not.

"You sure you're okay?" Evie asked, kneeling down to look in my eyes as I laid on the sofa. "You don't seem quite right."

"It's just a headache," I told her. She'd been worried all day, and apparently all night when I hadn't come home, but I wasn't in the mood to worry about her. She wasn't my keeper, I didn't have to report to her. I was still fuming from the morning- I couldn't shake my panic or anger or whatever the Hell it was I was feeling. I didn't even know what the word for it was, but it was clawing at the inside of my chest.

"Maybe take some Tylenol," she said, putting her hand on my head to check for a fever. I batted her away. I wasn't sick. "You want me to get it for you?"

"I'll be fine."

"I'll be home 'round midnight. I hate this shift work. You want me to stay home? You don't look right. Your eyes don't look right."

"No. It's just a headache."

I wanted her to leave and shut up before I snapped at her. I didn't need her to baby me and coddle me like that, I just needed her to get out of the house so that I could take another hit and get some rest. Maybe some relaxation would put me in a better mood. It's not that I needed the drugs, but they'd calm me down a lot faster than I could calm myself.

I guess she sensed my snappiness because it only took a few minutes before I heard her piece of shit car rumble away. I was glad she hadn't given me some cheesy goodbye.

I pulled the pill bottle Soda had put the rest of the heroin in for me out of my pocket, and began to fish a bit out when there was knocking on the door. There shouldn't have been knocking. Evie was gone, there was no car in the parking spot, and no one would even know I was there. It was probably some religious nut.

"Not interested," I shouted, and went back to the bottle.

But the knocking continued, so I recapped it and set it on the coffee table before going to the door- whoever it was was going to get one Hell of an earful- but was surprised to see Soda and Two-Bit on the other side.

"What are you doin' here?" I asked.

"That ain't no way to greet your guests," Soda said, shouldering past me, and I was surprised by how well he was walking- the night before he'd looked like he needed a cane, and today he was almost normal. Two-Bit just stood in the doorway. I guess he didn't know where we stood from earlier. I didn't know where we stood.

"Just passin' by. Thought we'd stop in."

"Bullshit."

"Kind of," he said, taking a seat at the end of the coffee table. I went and sat back on the sofa.

"We were just passin' by. Two-Bit drove me to my massage appointment," he said, gesturing to his leg. I'd always been skeptical of massage, but if that's what had him looking so much better, maybe there was something to it. "It's down on Victoria Street. Anyways, just wanted to see how you're doin'."

"I'm fine," I snapped. Why was everyone so concerned with how I was doing?

"You didn't seem so fine earlier," Two-Bit chimed in from the doorway, pointing to his split lip. I felt a bit bad, but not bad enough to invite him in. I wanted them both gone.

"Listen," Soda said, grabbing the pill bottle and tossing it abscent mindedly between his hands. He looked concerned, and for all the world, exactly like the Soda I had always known. Maybe it was because he had shaved, or maybe it was from his appointment, but he looked ten years younger than he had that morning. The stress and misery was gone from his face. He lowered his voice a bit. "You'll be alright, alright? Maybe not right now. But you'll be alright. Find something that makes you happy."  
My happiness was, quite literally, in his hands.

"I'm alright now."

"Mmhmm."

I wanted to punch him in the face but I thought that might not go so well towards proving that I was alright.  
I didn't know what to say, so I sat up and snatched the pill bottle from his hand and set it on the coffee table.  
"Sorry 'bout earlier," I said, gesturing with one hand for Two-Bit to come over, the other grabbing the pack of smokes off the seat of the chair. I figured I might as well try to make it right rather than carrying around some grudge, and apparently they weren't there for just a quick stop anyways. "I just, uh, got carried away." It sounded lame to my own ears, but he didn't need to know I'd gone black out crazy before slamming my head into his face. He didn't need to know of the suffocating panic that he had given me. He just didn't need to know.  
It wasn't til he sat down and I looked at him that I could tell something was wrong. It was as if he and Soda had swapped- Soda was young and carefree while Two-Bit looked more stressed than I'd ever seen him.  
"Whats buggin' you?" I asked, offering him and Soda a smoke.  
"Its nothin'" he said, and I thought he was still pissed about earlier til he added, "Well, maybe. Hopefully its nothin'. Its Gracie."  
It didn't take long to get him talking, and before long he'd told the story of his sister. How she had fallen in with the wrong people, and he thought she was using something, but he didn't know what. She had been out til all hours of the night, worrying their mother grey, and coming home either with a bad attitude or high as a kite. I knew it was bad when he said "The wrong people" cause most of the time, we were the wrong people. The way he went on and on I could tell it was something he needed to get off his chest.  
Their mother had confronted her that morning, after she had come wandering in at 4 in the morning with her clothes half off and her hair a mess.  
"She just blew up, loud enough to wake me, and took off. She's done it before, but she always comes back. She ain't been back yet, and its been over 12 hours. I wasn't worried this mornin' cause I figured she was just off coolin' down, but she ain't ever been gone this long."  
I thought of his sister. She had always seemed so young, but she'd have been around 15, and 15 was lots old enough to cause Hell. She was a pretty girl with long, dark red hair over pale skin. A girl like that could cause all kinds of trouble.  
"Why don't you go find her?"  
"I don't know where the Hell to look," he answered, running a hand over his chin. "Besides, she don't want to be found. Ain't like I can drag her home, kicking and screamin'."  
Whatever I'd felt towards him had vanished, and been replaced with a yearning to help, but I didn't know what I could do. I could barely help myself.

"She'll come back, Two-Bit."

But I had the feeling in my heart she wouldn't. She'd changed and was wrapped up in shit too old for a 15 year old to be dealing with. If she was coming back, it wouldn't be on her own.

Note: Sorry for the delay, had major internet issues. Also sorry for how long its taking to get anywhere in this, I seem to just be going on and on and on with no real conflict (other than steve. vs. Steve I suppose), and although I'm getting to it, I hope I'm not losing everyone. Thanks for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

"Whats got you in such a good mood?" I asked, watching the plaster ceiling slowly crumble as Soda bounced a tennis ball off the same spot for the umpteenth time.  
"Miss Jacobi's back," he said, catching the ball with ease.  
I waited, but he didn't elaborate. His words meant nothing to me. I didn't really give a rats ass about what anyone else did, but it got under my skin when I was so out of the loop I didn't even understand things everyone else took for granted. Apparently he thought I should know what he was talking about.  
"Miss Jacobi?" I asked, grabbing the ball out of the air on his next toss. I never used to notice his fidgeting, maybe because I was around it every day since second grade, but it was driving me insane. Why couldn't he just sit still and have a conversation like everyone else? His constant movement was making me nauseous. I smacked the ball onto the coffee table, where he promptly grabbed it and started tossing it again.  
"I told you about her. She rubs.." He paused dramatically. "My leg. For now, anyways. She's damn near magical."  
Right. The woman he wanted to make babies with.  
I rolled my eyes.  
"Yeah yeah, you only make faces cause you've already got your own baby maker. I bet Evie can't wait to have twenty little Steves running around. Man, she's hotter on you than fudge on a sundae. You're lucky you ain't got to work for her. This Caroline, I tell you, I ain't ever had to work so hard to get someone to even look twice."  
I rolled my eyes again. He was so full of crap.  
"First of all, Evie ain't poppin out any babies any time soon, so don't you go givin' her any ideas."  
The last thing I needed was Evie starting talking about babies and marriage and all that crap. I could hardly take care of myself, much less twenty little kids.  
"And I don't believe for one second you have to work hard to get her to notice you. Bet you've still got girls numbers in your pockets every night, scrawled on your arms in lipstick."  
He shrugged.  
"Not so much. Definitely not her. Girls ain't so keen on cripples."

My heart sunk. A cripple was some old guy who couldn't walk without a cane, or someone who'd broken their back in a car accident or something. Not him.

"Says I can't have her number cause I'm her patient. So I have to wait, I guess. Or convince her otherwise. Anyways, she's been away, on and off, for a while now. Says she's back full time now, so I'll be seein' a lot more of her. Two times a week."  
He sat up and carefully put the ball down.  
"No more about that."

His demeanour changed so fast it was like a switch had flipped.  
"Darry and Pony will be here soon... Before they get here... You wanna tell me what's got you in such a bad mood?"  
"I ain't in a bad mood."

But it felt like bad moods were the only kind of moods that existed anymore. Why was it so damn hard to be happy?

"Then I think you're brain's forgotten how to smile."

I guess I hadn't hidden that as well as I'd thought, but then again, he'd always been able to read me like an open book. It was a blessing and a curse.  
"Went to see Mr. Mitchell today."  
He had been my boss since I was 15, right up til I'd left for training. He'd always been a fair guy, giving both Soda and I jobs when most people would have just as soon called the cops on us. Never stiffed us on our wages or accused us of stealing if the til was a few dollars short. All in all, he was about as good a boss as you could expect.

I'd gone to see him about getting back to work. I was going crazy doing nothing, just trying to fill the time. He'd had a big Help Wanted sign in the window.  
"But you didn't get the job?" Soda asked, already knowing the answer. "But that ain't right. You know more than he does."  
"Tell me about it. Guys a clown. Said he'd just hired someone."  
"That don't matter!" Soda said, and I did appreciate that he would defend me, right or wrong. "You've got loyalty there, you been there a long time, you-"  
"Yeah, that ain't what pissed me off. Drove by on my way over here. Signs still up."  
His face went from serious to confused to downright angry in about two seconds flat.  
"Well fuck him! If he don't know you well enough by now to know you ain't some batshit crazy sonovabitch, he can just..." Words failed him and he made a violent upward motion with his hand before grabbing the tennis ball and throwing it across the room.  
"It don't matter that much," I said, deciding to try to talk him down a bit. I'd been pretty pissed off too, but it wasn't like Soda to be so mad and I didn't like it. "I'm just sick of doin' nothin. I ain't got nothin' to do but let Evie fawn all over me an' snort some of the good stuff. I just need somethin' to do."  
Something to keep my mind busy. When I was busy I was fine. When I did nothing my mind started to wander to places I didn't want it to go, and I had a hell of a time bringing it back.  
"Like Hell it doesn't matter," he said, apparently not paying attention to anything else I said. "We could ruin him. Burn that place down. If he thinks like that, well then-"

"Shut up," I interrupted. "We ain't doin' nothin' stupid like that. It ain't a big deal. People think what they're gonna think and maybe they're right, or maybe they're wrong, it ain't no skin off my back. I'll just go elsewhere."

I had been getting the vibe for a while that people just didn't like me, and with the newspapers and the television saying the things it was, it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Maybe I was "some batshit crazy sonovabitch" and he was right. I was just surprised Soda was more worked up about it than me- I'd always been the one with the bad temper.

He sat up and crossed his arms and seemed content with looking pissed off. We sat for a few minutes, and I could feel my anger at the situation growing right along with him. We were going to the movies with Darry and Ponyboy, whenever they got home, and I didn't want to be all pissed off with them, then they'd ask what was wrong and I'd have to talk to them too, and... It would be a clusterfuck mess. I didn't want to talk to them. I wasn't even sure I liked them anymore. I didn't really like too many people anymore. Why had I agreed to go anyways?

"Sodapop," I said, fishing around for the dregs of my powder. "How much you wanna go see this movie?"

He snorted.

"Then how about we blow off and go find something better to do?"

"Its a bit, uh, messy," Sodapop had warned me as I followed his directions. "But if you want to pick up anything, anything at all... It's the place to get it."

The house was every bit as nasty as I had expected. A broken chain link fence surrounded a house that didn't even look inhabitable- the front porch was missing two of its three steps, and it was missing the two front windows entirely.  
"Hey Sodapop," said some chick with huge eyes when we made our way onto the porch. Her pupils took up most of the colour in her eyes, turning them in to black pits. She was sitting cross legged just outside the front door.  
"Hey Pip."  
"The moon is real full tonight."  
I looked up. It was a foggy night- there was no moon.  
"Yeah, real full," Soda answered. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged.  
"Listen, Pip," he continued. "You shouldn't be here. Ain't you freezin'?"

She had nothing on but a long, flowing dress that didn't seem to have any straps, or maybe they were just covered by her hair. I couldn't tell, but I was freezing in jeans and a jacket.  
"Alright Sodapop, you never mind me. Go away. Watch the cats. There's too many cats inside."  
He nodded, but shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before he continued on his way, so I followed, not wanting to be stuck outside with her. She reminded me of some of the hippies I'd seen around town, but instead of bright and happy she just seemed sad and spaced out. Maybe it was just whatever she was on.  
"C'mon," he said, stepping over a bag of garbage just inside the doorway.  
The outside of the house was nothing compared to the inside. I'd been some pretty trashy places, but none seemed to compare to this one. The floor seemed to be made of empty wrappers and papers, and every single thing, from the banister, to the door knob, to the kitchen sink, was broken. The thought of Soda hanging out here made my chest tight- this wasn't a good place.  
"Sodapop!" Someone said as we walked down a hallway, and suddenly hands were all over us, ushering us into a small room packed with people, some of them sitting on the floor, some just wandering around, some doing God knows what. The room stank of pot and vinegar and I hated it. There was too many people, and it was too loud- the only good bit was that there was no stereo blasting out God awful music.  
Soda was pulled aside, and I was left standing by the door. I'd never felt so uncomfortable. If this was the only way to get what I needed, I'd quit. I was half tempted to walk out the door.  
"Hey," some guy said. He was sitting with his legs out in front of him, but had twisted his neck around so far to look at me that it looked broken. His hair was down below his shoulders and didn't look like it had been brushed or washed in a year. "You think you can walk in here after killin' all them kids overseas?"  
My heart skipped a beat. What had Soda brought me here for? This wasn't going to end well. This wasn't going to end well at all.  
But then the man laughed and scrambled to his feet so awkwardly I thought he might fall. He was wearing some sort of fabric poncho that I suspected was yellow once upon a time, and either really short shorts or no pants at all.  
"I'm just shittin' you Steve! Them yellow bellies, they deserve it." He opened his arms to embrace me, but I just stood there. I didn't have a clue who he was, and he looked so dirty I'd have to burn my clothes afterwards just to get rid of the smell.  
"Oh Shit," I said, finally recognizing him. "Chuck!"  
He pulled me in to the most awkward hug I had ever experienced. It lasted far too long- Evie didn't even hug me for that long- but he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just took delight in making people real uncomfortable. Or maybe he was so drugged out he didn't even realize he was doing it.  
"C'mere. Sit down. Its been too long, man, too long!"  
He sat back down among the mess of people and motioned for me to sit next to him. I didn't want to, but didn't really see any way out of it, so I did, putting my hands on my knees to avoid them being stepped on by all the people milling around.  
"Well shit Steve! You're back. And you brought Soda back too. Ain't seen him around here in a while. Or did he bring you? Either way, glad to see you back in one piece. You still are in one piece?"  
"Uh, yeah..." I answered. He was too chatty, but at least he wasn't a stranger. Well, not a complete stranger- I hadn't seen him in about two years and its not like we'd ever been all that close. I couldn't stop looking at his hair. He'd always been in and out of Juvie in highschool, and so his hair had always been fairly short. His new look was just bizarre.  
"Got both your legs?"  
"Yeah."  
"Got both your nuts?"  
"Yeah."  
"Well then you're doin' alright, I tell you that. My buddy Mike got his nuts shot off. I didn't believe him, but he showed me. Its the truth! No nuts but otherwise completely untouched."  
Did he really think I wanted to sit around talking about some other guys nuts?  
"Anyways, you're free tonight, alright? Whatever you're after. Consider it a home coming gift from me. I'm in charge."  
I had a hard time believing anyone was in charge of anything. There were just too many people to keep track of. Maybe there was nothing to be in charge of and it was just something he said to make himself feel important, but there were no important people in that house, just washed up losers. Soda and I shouldn't have been there.  
"Becca!" He shouted so suddenly it made me jump, and out of the crowd of people emerged some chick with real long, straight blonde hair. She got down on the floor and crawled over to Chuck and sat in front of him, poised like a dog.  
"This is Steve, Becca. He's our guest tonight."  
She smiled a smile that would have been really pretty if she'd had more than five teeth in her entire mouth. She squirmed her way between Chuck and I, and put a hand on each our thighs.  
"So what can I do you for?" He asked, reaching into the pocket at the front of his poncho and pulling out a variety of pill bottles, some filled with pills, some with different powders, some with things I couldn't even recognize.  
"Some pot? Or are you after something a bit harder?"  
I was having a hard time focusing. I felt like I was high just off the smoke in the room, and Beccas hand stroking my thigh was distracting.  
"If you're anything like the rest of them men that come back, this is what you want," he said, pulling out a bottle filled with white powder.  
It was as if the room had gone silent, and everyone else had vanished. I couldn't look away. That was what I needed.  
"Thats it,' I told him, and it took some will power not to just grab it and run. I didn't want to be there, around all those people.  
He quickly stuffed the other bottles back in his pocket, and began rolling the one I wanted back and fourth between his hands.  
'I'll warn you. This shit is pure. It ain't cut with nothin' else. You take this like what you have been takin' an' you'll be dead on a slab by mornin'. I ain't cheap but I don't sell no shit."  
I nodded. I was used to having whatever I could get my hands on, some of it good, some of it not so good.  
"How much?"  
"Shit, man, like I said, its free tonight. You can have it. The whole damn thing. I'm a nice guy. We'll talk price another day. Don't worry, I won't leave you high and dry. Ain't my style. Gotta do what you gotta do. Gotta have what you've gotta have."  
Maybe if he stopped giving away huge freebies he'd be able to pay to have his front door put back on its hinges.  
"Hang on," he said, eyeing the bottle up. "Becca go get my stuff."  
She jumped up so fast she reminded me of a cat.  
"I test all my shit before I sell it. I ain't cracked this batch yet. Don't want to sell no one bad shit, y'know. Ain't good business."

I thought that was probably bullshit and he just wanted to dabble in everyone elses' stuff, but before I could say anything Becca was back, and he prepped it so fast it was if he'd done it a thousand times. He probably had.  
"You want?" He asked, handing the needle to me after he'd finished.  
"Not right now," I told him, even though I wanted some like crazy. I thought I might get on his bad side if I told him that I thought the needle might kill me- it had clearly been dirty when she'd brought it in, and I wasn't itching to get some awful infection. I'd rather just snort it and not have to deal with Evie noticing bruising and shit all over my arms.  
He just shrugged and handed it to Becca, who shot up just as fast as him, before handing the bottle to me.  
Great. Mission accomplished. Now to just get the fuck out...  
But before I could stand up, Becca was back to rubbing my thigh. The walls felt like they were closing in, and all I could see was her gnarly hand. She had three fingernails painted different colours, two not painted at all, and a big bruise that took up the entire back of her hand and ran around to her wrist, where it disappeared up her sleeve.  
"You can have a turn with her if you want," Chuck said, and with that her hand left my thigh and jumped to my belt buckle. "Like I said, whatever you want is free. Nothin' this pretty girl won't do."  
But I was already on my feet, edging away from them. I had the urge to kick her away, like stray dog. The crowded room was pressing down on me once more, and I needed out. Beccas toothless face was making me sick. What kind of person was she?  
"You still with that chick then?"  
"Evie, yeah," I said, brushing off my pants. "Thanks man, I just gotta go piss," I lied. I needed out. The lights in the room looked like they were pulsating and I didn't want to do something stupid in front of everyone. What the Hell was wrong with me? I couldn't breathe.  
"Evie, thats her name! Shes a good fuck. Bring her by if you ever want to trade for a night."  
If I hadn't been in such a hurry to get the Hell out of there, I would have laid him right out on the floor then and there. No one talked about Evie like that.

Besides, I thought to myself, punching your dealer isn't the way to be on his good side, and I'd be needing him. Heroin made me normal. I could sleep, I could eat, I could breathe... And it kept me sane.


End file.
